


Unexpected

by surena_13



Category: Potiche
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-14
Updated: 2012-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-29 13:23:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surena_13/pseuds/surena_13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nadege surprises Suzanne at the office</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected

**Unexpected**

 

Suzanne stands in front of the window in her office, looking down at the courtyard. The last of the workers are leaving. She is the only one left at Pujol-Michonneau. Lighting up a cigarette, she opens the window and unbuttons a few buttons of her blouse, the night air cool against her exposed skin.

Her husband is still in the hospital. She hasn’t seen him for five days, maybe more, the work at the factory having completely taken up all of her time, but she doesn’t care about that. For the first time in decades she feels useful, something more than just a trophy wife for her husband to cheat on.

She loves the work here, seeing her son flourish doing something he loves and her daughter growing out of that cliché image of a wife and into a business woman in her own way. Even Nadège has improved. She is no longer the stereotype secretary who spreads her legs for her boss. She seems content that Suzanne has replaced Robert.

The cigarette falls from her fingers through the open window when she feels a pair of hands sliding over her hips and down her thighs. For a moment she thinks it might be Maurice, surprising her, hoping to rekindle whatever they once had a long time ago, but the touch is too soft and the scent that envelops her is one of perfume, hairspray and definitely female. She turns around and nearly falls over from shock.

“Nadège,” she exclaims. The secretary holds Suzanne in her arms, so closing that their bodies are pressed together. “How - - what are you doing?” Suzanne stammers. Nadège smiles and leans closer, her lips almost touching Mme Pujol’s.

“What I did for Mr Pujol, but now I want to do it.”

“You want to do what?” Suzanne asks, hoping she sounds not as nervous as she feels. She knows exactly what Nadège did for Robert, her and countless of girls at Badaboum. And Suzanne herself had plenty of indiscretions, but never a woman.

“This.” Nadège closes the remaining distance between their lips and kisses Suzanne, bringing her hands up to touch the blond hair. It crinkles with all the hairspray Mme Pujol put in that morning. Suzanne freezes at the fervor with which Nadège attacks her lips. She hadn’t expected it from the sometimes naïve secretary. She had expected a certain shyness, maybe even clumsiness, but not expertise.

Hesitantly she puts her hands on Nadège’s narrow waist as the woman eases her tongue past Suzanne’s lips. It doesn’t feel wrong. She thought that kissing the mistress of her husband ought to feel wrong, but it doesn’t. There is something so right about the taste of Nadège in her mouth and the secretary’s hands moving up her legs, pushing up her skirt until it is bunched up around her waist, her nails softly scratching the lace edge of her stockings.

“Nadège,” Suzanne whispers, not exactly sure what she wants to say. All she knows is that she wants to say something.

“Please don’t say that you that think this is a mistake.” Nadège voice is weak, fragile as she starts to pull her hands away, but Suzanne stops her, taking hold of her wrists.

“Don’t stop,” she says and sees the life return into Nadège’s blue eyes. Holding her breath, Suzanne guides one of the secretary’s hands between her legs, gasping when the fingers touch the sensitive flesh through her underwear while the other hand slides over her ribcage, cupping her breast.

Her nipples strain against the fabric of her bra as Nadège moves aside her damp underwear and enters her with just a fingertip, teasing her, making her yearn for more. But just as she hopes for more, it disappears. Before she can protest, Nadège maneuvers her onto the windowsill, taking off her panties and throwing them on the floor.

Suzanne eagerly spreads her legs and Nadège steps between them. Reaching up, Suzanne traces Nadège’s jaw line and kisses her, effectively muffling a moan when two fingers enter her and the secretary’s palm brushes against clit. She can feel herself growing wetter and Nadège’s fingers move easier.

Nadège nips at the skin of Suzanne’s throat, her collarbone, kissing the parts of breasts that are exposed and then she kneels. She softly bites the exposed skin above the edge of the stocking, her tongue flicking out to sooth the red indentations. Suzanna grabs the edge of the windowsill until her knuckles turn white. The fear that she might fall out of the window only makes this more exciting. She hasn’t felt this carefree, this reckless since before her marriage.

A moan echoes over the courtyard when Nadège’s lips descend on Suzanne’s clit. Anyone could hear her, anyone could see them, but Suzanne doesn’t care. Right now Robert could be on that courtyard and she wouldn’t care. This feeling is unlike anything she has ever felt. A total abandon, loss of control.

“Oh god, Nadège,” Suzanne groans. “Don’t stop.” Encouraged by Suzanne’s words, the secretary adds a third finger and begins moving them faster, eagerly sucking on her clit. Incoherent noises are torn from her throat. Her legs tremble and her hips slide forward attempting to take in more of Nadège’s fingers. She is close and desperate for a release.

Suzanne cries out when her climax overcomes her. Her muscles tense up, her back arches and she comes dangerously close to tumbling out of the window and falling a few meters down, but Nadège places her free hand on her back and stops her. Suzanne can feel the adrenaline and the remnants of her orgasm flowing through her veins. She feels alive.

Nadège gets up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, a mysterious smile playing on her lips. Suzanne leans forward, gently kissing Nadège, tasting herself on Nadège’s tongue. She wants to reach out and touch the other woman, to feel her skin and her breasts, but Nadège stops her, placing her hands back on the windowsill.

“No, I don’t want that. This was for you,” Nadège says quietly, resting her forehead against Suzanne’s.

“I’m not allowed to return the favor?”

“Maybe another time.” Nadège gives her a quick kiss and steps away, straightening her clothes and running her fingers through her hair, the red locks still stubbornly sticking out. She looks insecure, uncertain of what to do next. Suzanne gives her reassuring look which eases some of the tension in Nadège’s shoulders.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says after a moment of silence.

“Yes, you will.”

Suzanne waits until Nadège has left the office before sliding of the windowsill, her unsteady feet touching the floor. Her underwear lies discarded and ruined under the desk. She smoothes her crumpled skirt back over her hips and legs. This was unexpected in so many ways, but none of them negative.

Touching her lips, she smiles. Nadège’s taste lingers there. Behind her she can the secretary’s heels click on the stones of the courtyard. She turns around and closes the window, just in time to see Nadège walking through the gate.

Suzanne wonders what tomorrow will bring. Will they act lioe nothing happened or tomorrow evening will they repeat this and become the cliché her husband and Nadège were? Shaking her head, she closes the window. She doesn't want to worry. Tonight she simply wants to enjoy the memory of Nadège loving her for a brief moment.


End file.
